


love and security and family and maltesers

by alesford



Series: our family of choice [1]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Families of Choice, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sorry this was sadder than I intended, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 00:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15036944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesford/pseuds/alesford
Summary: Nedley always said that there will be one case that really gets to you, that crawls beneath your skin and makes a home there, nagging and ever-present from that moment forward. It’s the case that will change your life in some way or another. The case that could make or break you as a person.For Nicole, it's a case that leads her to a little girl named Belle and a heart that doesn't know how to do anything but love fiercely.





	love and security and family and maltesers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sensitive_pigeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensitive_pigeon/gifts).



> I wanted to write this for [@sensitive_pigeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensitive_pigeon/pseuds/sensitive_pigeon) because I saw this [note](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com/post/175175381644/pidge-im-so-sorry-to-hear-youre-having-a-rough) on their tumblr. It probably isn't quite what they had in mind, but after everything they have given us, I wanted to give something back to them. 
> 
> Thanks, Pidge. You're an awesome writer.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

**love and security and family and maltesers**  
_That's when you need someone,_  
_someone that you, you can call._  
_When all your faith is gone,_  
_and it feels like you can't go on,_  
_let it be me._  
_\- "Let It Be Me", Ray LaMontagne_

 

Nedley always said that there will be one case that really gets to you, that crawls beneath your skin and makes a home there, nagging and ever-present from that moment forward. It’s the case that will change your life in some way or another. The case that could make or break you as a person.

Nicole always thought that case was Tucker Gardener’s. The long game, the sheriff had said. And when she flipped through that file, when she found that creep in Waverly’s bedroom and pulled the trigger, she thought she had found her resolution. What she didn’t realize was that the case of Tucker Gardner wasn’t the case that would pull at her insides; it was Nedley’s.

Her case doesn’t come until later. After Nedley has retired. After she’s become sheriff. After Wynonna has sent the last of Wyatt’s outlaws back to hell.

It isn’t an extraordinary case.

  
(Because even without the revenants, Purgatory is still a quirky town and demonic criminals cursed to resurrect once a generation aren’t the only things of nightmares turned reality.)

  
It isn’t an extraordinary case, but it isn’t a happy one either. Like, at all.

Because broken families and intimate partner violence are never happy but they also aren't extraordinary and isn’t that just a goddamn fucking _tragedy_.

The case is open and shut. A murder-suicide perpetrated by the wife against the husband with a shotgun to the face and a bottle of oxy chased with an even bigger bottle of vodka. The scene is a mess, and that isn’t the sight that wiggles its way into Nicole’s heart and mind. It isn’t the blood and brain matter splattered across the peeling wallpaper in the living room or the vomit and urine seeping into the ugly off-white carpet.

No.

It’s the sight of a little girl hiding in the cabinet under the kitchen sink, one hand gripping a soft blanket decorated with _pigeon_ illustrations and the other providing a thumb to suck. Her name is Belle — and who the hell names their kid, ‘Bellona’? — and she’s four years old and she has nowhere else to go. Because people suck and sometimes the blood of family means jack shit, even when it’s supposed to mean the most.

So Nicole coaxes her out from beneath the kitchen sink and wraps her tight in her department-issued jacket. She covers her eyes and carries her outside to her cruiser, leaving her deputy in charge of cataloguing evidence and clearing the scene. She drives toward the station and who knew a four-year-old could lend to the most awkward silence she’s ever experienced in her life?

But this is her case. The one that crawls beneath her skin and makes its home there, tugging and nagging and pulling at her heartstrings. She has to wipe the tears out of her eyes and smother the sob that wants to rip from her throat every time she looks in her rearview mirror and sees the girl’s face and the resignation and sense of _loss_ that she finds there.

When they arrive at the municipal building, she parks her cruiser in Lonnie’s designated spot because it’s closer than hers and for some reason that feels important, right now. Because she takes a small hand in hers and they walk into the cop shop together. And Belle still doesn’t talk, doesn’t remove her thumb from her mouth and still grips at her blanket like it’s her lifeline, even when Nicole settles her onto the sofa in the sheriff’s office — her office, her office — and offers her the box of Maltesers that she keeps in her desk in case of emergencies.

  
This counts as an emergency, right?

  
She flops into the chair behind the desk that still doesn’t quite feel like her own.

The candy declined by tiny hands, she opens the box for herself, dumping a handful onto her workspace where she’ll inevitably find melted chocolate clinging to a report that Lonnie mis-filed again.

“I hope I don’t have to eat all of these by myself,” she says jokingly, and while Belle doesn’t say anything, she does look at Nicole — really looks at her and for a split second, the resignation and sadness is replaced with intrigue. But then the mask slides back into place and Nicole sighs.

Her heart aches for the little girl in front of her.

There’s a knock on her door and Nicole recognizes the silhouette through the frosted glass even before Waverly’s inside and closing the door quietly behind her.

“Hey,” she says softly, and it’s directed toward Nicole even if her eyes are on Belle. “Deputy Price called me. Said it was a doozy.”

And Belle looks at her, too, with curiosity and a flicker of recognition because who doesn’t know the town sweetheart and the name Earp? And Waverly kneels in front of the little girl and smiles so kind and generous with her heart on her sleeve.

She holds out her hand to the girl, unassuming. “Hi, there. I’m Waverly. What’s your name?”

To Nicole’s amazement — or not really because Waverly is _Waverly_ — Belle takes her hand, a child's fingers dwarfed by an adult’s, and gives it a little shake. She draws her thumb from her mouth. “‘m Belle,” she whispers.

“That’s a beautiful name, Belle,” Waverly responds just as quietly but still loud enough for Nicole to hear. “Do you mind if I stay in here for a minute to talk to the sheriff?”

Belle shakes her head. “Don’t mind,” she mumbles and Waverly smiles and nods and pushes to her feet.

She’s so gentle and calm, exuding an aura of warmth and comfort that Nicole wants so desperately to lean into, and Waverly must sense that because she moves to wrap her up in a hug from behind, even if it’s kind of awkward with Nicole in the chair.

“She doesn’t have any family that wants her,” Nicole sighs as she finds comfort in Waverly’s arms. “Price called her friend at Children’s Services when we arrived on scene. They already have a file on the family. Belle was put in a group home a while back for a pending investigation by CPS. None of her extended family would take her in. God, Waves… I can’t… we can’t let her go into the system.”

Nicole knows that she’s already grown too attached, too close to remain impartial. She’s thinking and speaking as Nicole, the woman who loves so profoundly, instead of Nicole, the sheriff and the cop. In this moment, the line is blurred.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t feel so much all the damn time.”

Waverly lets go of her at that statement and spins the chair around, thank god for swivel office chairs. And then she’s kneeling again, her hands on Nicole’s knees and looking up at her with those pretty hazel eyes that are more green than brown today.

“Don’t ever say that, Nicole Haught,” she whispers. The words are sharp and sure with a look on her face to match. “I love you because you feel so much. I love you because you give so much of yourself, because you love so thoroughly, because you are the most gracious and loving human being that I know.”

Nicole squeezes her eyes shut tight, refusing still to crack further than she already has.

“This is why we got the foster home license, right? Why we applied and went through the training?” Waverly asks, her hands still on Nicole’s knees like an anchor in the storm. “To make sure kids like Belle have a chance at something like a normal life, even if they’re only with us for a little while?”

They’re the words she wants to hear. The words she needs to hear. She opens her eyes and looks down at Waverly and then over her desk at Belle, who watches the scene with all the inquisitiveness of a child in an odd and new situation. She isn’t frightened or sad anymore; she looks _hopeful_.

Nicole wants to keep that hope alive, and so she nods and leans forward to press a kiss to Waverly’s forehead. “Okay,” she says. “Okay.” And Waverly smiles and nods and repeats it back to her.

Together they walk over to the sofa, fingers intertwined as each other’s own safety blanket. Together they kneel before the young girl named Belle and they ask her if she might want to come and live with them for a little while. They promise a home full of love and security and Maltesers. There’s a promise of a found family in there, too, because both of them know that it’s the family you find — the family you choose — that matters most in the end.

This is the case that really gets to Nicole. The one that makes its way into her heart and settles there, heavy and oh so important. Because little girls need love and security and Maltesers and family. And she thinks, finally, she has all that to offer in this little girl’s time of need.

Because home is where the heart is, where roots take hold and grow into something magnificent and more. Not all sad stories have to end in tragedy, and Nicole knows exactly how she wants this one to end.

 

(With love and security and a family of choice.

                              
                                            And maybe Maltesers, also.)

 

 

 


End file.
